Cold Copper Tears (28 page)

Agire knew something. He got rockier.

I said, “We don’t have to be enemies. But my friend and I want to know what’s going on so we can get ourselves out of a bind and maybe put the crazies out of their misery.”

That is enough, Garrett. Say nothing more. He is considering his position and options and the probability that you are telling the truth. You are?

“The whole and nothing but.” I glanced at Jill. Gone was the cool. She had a bad case of the fidgets. Her eyes wouldn’t stay still. She might have tried to run if Maya hadn’t been between her and the door.

We waited on Agire. Agire waited on divine inspiration.

Dean brought a small side table from the kitchen. “I’ll set up a buffet,” he said.

“Fine. As long as there’s plenty of it.” I was hungry and tired and impatient with my guests.

The Dead Man cautioned, They are thinking, Garrett. That is enough.

“Anything interesting?’’

A great deal. We now know, for example, why Dean and your young friend could not locate what the woman concealed here. She is trying too hard not to think of it.

“What?”

My backchat disturbed my guests. I told myself to can it. I helped Dean when he brought a tray of goodies. I wasn’t polite. I helped myself immediately. “Breakfast,” I told the others.

After a pause calculated to have me panting with suspense, the Dead Man said,
She hid it here while I was sleeping.

“I know.” I went to the case on the short wall where we keep our maps and references, searched the shelf that kept drawing Jill’s eye, and found a big copper key. It looked like it had been lying around turning green for a couple hundred years.

The Dead Man was irked. I had stolen his thunder. Jill looked like she was going to cry. Agire couldn’t take his eye off the key.

It was six inches long and the heaviest key I’d ever hefted. It excited Agire but I knew there was no key among the Terrell Relics. It was squared off flat on the sides. There was an inscription under the verdigris. I scraped at it.

“My, my.” It was the very slogan on those old temple coins. I chunked it under the Dead Man’s chair, collected my plate, and started stuffing myself. Maya followed my lead. My guests were too nervous to partake. If they didn’t get busy, I’d get their share.

50

Patience paid. Agire cracked.

“The Hammon cult has been making war on us. Its object is recovery of that key, which can unlock the Tomb of Karak, where legend has the Devourer imprisoned. The cult can’t free him any other way. It’s only been a few months since they found out who had the key, although they’ve known for decades that it was in TunFaire.

“For three decades they’ve slipped men into the priesthoods here. Sometime this year one of them reached a level of trust where he could find out the key is kept with the Terrell Relics.

“The cult’s leaders brought men to TunFaire. Using sources inside my church, they began a whisper campaign meant to rip us apart. They might’ve succeeded, but a minor player defected. He told me what he knew. I tried to take steps but learned that the hierarchy was riddled with traitors.

“I shared some of this with my friend.” He indicated Jill. “I didn’t realize she knew who I was, nor that she had a relationship with Magister Peridont. Nor, for that matter, was I aware that my peccadillo was known to my enemies.

“I mentioned my informant in front of the wrong man, resulting in an attempt on my life and an effort to steal the Relics. By Orthodox monks. I fled to the one person I could trust.” He indicated Jill again. “But I chose a bad time. She was entertaining her friend from the Church.”

Pain shown for a moment. “I should have known she couldn’t afford a place like that.” Another pause. “Later she arranged for me to hide in the apartment opposite hers. She urged me to take Magister Peridont into my confidence. The threat to the Orthodox church was a threat to all Hanites. I was stubborn. She says she dropped hints to Peridont. Those set him moving along the course you know. I didn’t yield to her till too late. I gave her permission to speak to Peridont after she saw you that first time, hoping you could protect her from men watching her in hopes of tracing me. When she tried to tell Peridont he was too rushed to get the full story and didn’t understand that she could bring us together. He tried to hire you to find me.

“Then he made the mistake I did — talking in front of someone who had infiltrated the Church. The enemy immediately suspected that she knew where the Relics were.”

He seemed to think that explained everything. Maybe it did, in some ways. But it ignored why I’d received so much attention. I asked.

Jill confessed. “I set you up, sort of. You have a reputation for stumbling around turning over rocks and getting away with it. You scared them. They tried to get rid of you without being connected to it. You got the best of the kids they hired. They panicked. Everything just escalated.”

Really? It made a crazy sense. Maybe perfect sense to somebody in the religion business.

“You telling me there really is a Devastator? And that this character can destroy the world but can’t bust himself out of a tomb? Come on. You might as well stuff him in a bag made of cobwebs.”

Agire looked at me like I was a mental defective. Make that spiritually handicapped.

“I know you priests believe six impossible things everyday before breakfast,” I said. “Some of you, anyway. I think most of you are parasites who live off the gullible, the ignorant and the desperate. I don’t think any of you who get ahead believe what you preach. You sure never practice it. Convince me you’re an honest man and a believer, Warden.”

Garrett.

I thought he was going to caution me about pushing the man.

True, the man does find some dogma a useful fiction. He manipulates the laity cynically and he is devoted to improving his place in the hierarchy. But he believes in his god and his prophet.

“That’s absurd. He’s an intelligent man. How can he buy something so full of contradictions and revisions of history?”

Agire smiled sadly, as though he had overheard the Dead Man and pitied me my blindness. I hate it when priests do that. Like their pity is all the proof they need.

You believe in sorcery.

My brain was in better shape than it should have been, tired as I was. I got his argument.

“I see sorcery at work every day. It’s absurd but I see concrete results.”

Agire said, “Mr. Garrett, you appear to be the sort who needs to be cut to believe in swords. I understand that mentality better than you think. Do you comprehend the idea of symbol? You say you accept sorcery. The very root of sorcery is manipulation of symbol in a way that affects referent. And that’s the root of religion, too.

“Say there never was a Terrell. Or that Terrell was the villain portrayed by some. In the context of symbol and faith the Terrell who lived is irrelevant. The Terrell of faith is a symbol that must exist to fulfill the needs of a large portion of mankind. Likewise the creator.

“Hano must be because we need him to be. He was before we were. He will be after we’re gone. Hano may not fulfill your prescription for such a being. So call him Prime Mover or just the force that set time and matter in motion.

“He must be because we need him to be. And he must be what we need him to be. It is a philosophical argument difficult to grasp for we who live among obdurately hard surfaces and sharp edges that ignore our wishes, but the observer invariably affects the phenomenon. In this context, God — by whatever name — is, and is constrained to be, whatever we believe him to be. The Hano of Terrell’s time isn’t the Hano of today. The Hano of the Orthodox denominations isn’t the Hano of the Sons of Hammon. But he exists. He was what he was and he is what he’s believed to be now. Do you follow? Hano is even what you believe him to be, in that infinitesimal fraction of himself that is yours alone.”

I understood that they always have an argument. “You’re saying we rule and create God as much as God creates and rules us.”

“Ultimately. And that’s how we get a fragment of God called the Devourer that can be locked in a tomb even though he can destroy the world. He can’t get out because nobody believes he can get out — except by unlocking the door from outside. In fact, you might be able to argue that nobody wants him out — not even his followers — so the tomb becomes a total constraint.”

“Too spooky for me. I’ll keep thinking you’re a bunch of crooks.” I punctuated with a grin, telling him I knew what he’d say next.

“And the vast majority of people would as soon keep thinking in the symbols to which they’re accustomed.”

“All of which doesn’t get us a step closer to cleaning this mess up before those guys turn TunFaire into a battleground. Symbols haven’t been getting killed.”

“The crux. Always the crux. The practicalities of everyday life. The early kings did what they had to when they exterminated an insidious and vicious enemy. Only a handful survived to rebuild. That solution is impractical today because we couldn’t convince the agencies of the state that a threat exists. Symbolism again. A threat must be perceived to exist before the Crown will act. We have bodies all over the city? So the lower orders are slaughtering each other again. So what?”

I glanced at the Dead Man. He seemed amused. “Old Bones, you were going on about a rogue Loghyr the other day. This guy hasn’t said anything about that.”

He does not know, Garrett. The possibility of a true, cynical manipulation of men and their beliefs has not occurred to him, except in his own feeble way.

Ah! There is no contradiction, as you are about to protest. I am aware that I mentioned a great evil being created because some people needed it to exist. That is what the Warden has been saying. The rogue created a god in order to manipulate men. Men then created that god with their belief. Agire is right. There is a thing in a tomb. It can be released. It could destroy the world. It is a product of the imagination that has taken on life. Now it rules the rogue who imagined it. It has sent him to find the key.

“But...”

To end this you must find the rogue. You must destroy him.

“Oh boy.” I glanced at Agire and Jill. The Dead Man had let them listen in. Jill seemed lost, Agire just frightened. “And how do we pull that off? How do you put an end to a Loghyr when even death doesn’t slow him down?”

We will discuss that later. You are too tired to act, let alone think. I will consider means while you sleep.

Just dandy.

51

The Dead Man must not have let Dean rest while I was sawing logs. When I went downstairs the place was a zoo. The most exotic animals in TunFaire were there. They included Chodo Contague (who never leaves his estate) and his top two lifetakers, Morley, a man I didn’t know who was obviously oaf the Hill, several species of priest old enough to have gray hair or no hair, and — wonder of all wonders — that character Sampson who’d been Pendent’s assistant. At least fifteen people united in a conspiracy to exhaust my food and potables.

Were they talking about how to get shut of the Sons of Hammon? No. All they had on their minds was Glory Mooncalled, whose latest stunt had come earlier than expected and had people reeling everywhere. He had won his biggest victory yet, his slickest, and his most treacherous.

He let himself be discovered by the last Warlords of Venageta. He led their three armies a merry chase until they ran him to ground and he caught them. At the same time his agents guided even vaster Karentine armies into the same area. Those jumped right in figuring to end the war with a single day’s bloodwork. They killed all three Warlords and most of their men. But the victory didn’t turn out the way they hoped. Glory Mooncalled extricated himself early, engaged only to keep the Venageti from fleeing. The night after the battle he attacked the Karentine camp and killed all the officers, commanders, witches, warlocks, storm-wardens, firelords, and what have you. He sent surviving enlisted men to Full Harbor with word that the Cantard’s nonhuman peoples had declared it an inde-pendent state. Any Karentine or Venageti presence would be considered an act of war.

The man’s audacity was amazing.

The Dead Man had gotten the news.

“You don’t seem as smug as you should be. What did he do that you didn’t predict?”

He declared creation of an independent republic. I had foreseen him turning on Karenta, as you know, but never considered the possibility that he had such lofty ambitions.

“The way I read it he just wants to be the warlord of the Cantard republic.”

A convenient fiction. He permits the creation of an assembly representing the various sentient races of the Cantard. But who owns the power? Who controls the hearts of every veteran capable of wielding a weapon? Today he is not just a king or emperor or even a dictator. He is a demigod. If Karenta and Venageta continue to make claims to the Cantard, his power will not wane while he lives.

There was no “if” about what Karenta and Venageta would do. There were vast silver deposits in the Cantard. They were what the war was about. Sorcerers need silver to fuel their sorceries. Sorcerers are the true, hidden masters of both kingdoms. The war would continue with Karenta and Venageta as tacit allies until Glory Mooncalled’s republic collapsed.

So it goes.

“What’s this hungry horde I have filling up every nook and cranny? I’ve gained a few marks in this mess but at the rate they’re going they’ll eat up the profits.”

Bring them in. I suggest you bring Mr. Sadler, Mr. Crask, and Mr. Chodo first and place them near the door, then bring the others, then come yourself with Mr. Dotes and Miss Stump. There could be some excitement when those priests realize they are in the presence of a Loghry. Caution Mr. Chodo and his associates.

I didn’t have any idea what he was up to. I decided to humor him. It was pleasure enough to see him awake and working without carping.

When Sadler heard my warning he asked what was up. I told him I didn’t know. He wasn’t pleased, but what could I do? Chodo was more understanding — on the surface. He would await events before making judgments.